Valentine's Day
by Atana
Summary: Valentine's Day is lonely when you're young Severus Snape. A friend can make all the difference in the world. A Snips and Spirals story!


DISCLAIMER: Hogwarts and all characters within are owned by J.K. Rowling. Britomartis 'Spirals' Vox is the creation of Atana and myself. EDIT: Here's a slightly revised edition that fits in with what I've been writing.  
  
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Snips and Spirals fanfic: "Valentine's Day"

by Lady Tesser

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Severus Snape, Fourth-Year student at Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, had buried his face in a book while his roommates were getting ready for the Valentine's Day Dance.  
  
"Not coming at all, Snips?" Lucius Malfoy asked airily, pulling his long blonde hair back and tying it with a black velvet bow.  
  
Sev did not answer him.  
  
"Too bad, old boy," Lucius continued in the same manner, now combing the ends of his hair. "Everyone will be there, including that Stellamaris girl from Ravenclaw that you have been setting your hopes on."  
  
'Snips' Snape really wondered if Lucius Malfoy was as unconcerned as he seemed or truly heartless. Everyone knew Sonia Stellamaris had rejected him outright when he asked her to the dance - rumors by this point were saying that she puked on him in response, rather than the tactless 'I do hope you're joking, Severus.' that she had really said.  
  
At least Martis broke her jaw. She still had to wear that silly face brace.  
  
"Suit yourself," Lucius stated. "Don't wait up for us."  
  
Roommates left, and Sev sighed.  
  
Everyone was going to be there, no doubt about it. Even the First-Years, obnoxious as they are, were going to be there and playing Junior Chaperones for the teachers. All the teachers were going to be there, too. Except House Mothers - they stayed for those too ill to go or on detention or whatever other reason.  
  
Rowena Price looked after Slytherin House, a cackling thin woman with a mass of puffy gray hair and always had the scent of drying herbs around her. She wore very large, very round glasses that she always managed to look over the top of. And she wore green and white striped stockings, which could always be seen from under her lacy petticoat and indigo gown, ending with a pair of high heeled Colonial shoes with impressively large gold buckles.  
  
She said she had darning to do, and would stay in the common room in case any of those not going to the dance needed her. Of course, the fact that she had terrible arthritis remained the unspoken reason of why she really stayed in.  
  
At least the tower would be quiet ... he could get some work done. He still had an essay due for Professor McElwain's Defense Against the Dark Arts class, but that was due in a few days so he still had time to work on it at his leisure.  
  
Looking around, Sev deposited his textbook on his bedside table and leaned over the side of the bed, his hair brushing against the floor as he lifted the bedskirt up and shoved his hand under the bed, looking for something by feeling.  
  
At last, he pulled it out - a novel he had brought back with him from the Muggle World. It was an old, battered paperback actually, something that he had picked up at the train station for a few shillings (traded currency with a Muggle student for a few knuts), but it was one of the best stories he had ever read.  
  
'The Egypt Game' by Zilpha Keatley Snyder. He opened it up near the middle and began reading of when April, Melanie, Marshall, and Elizabeth snuck away from their Trick-or-Treat group and went off to play in their little corner of Egypt while in their Egyptian costumes ...  
  
He was at the part when the kids were starting to leave messages to each other in hieroglyphics when his door creaked open.  
  
Hurriedly, Sev put the book under his pillow and grabbed his textbook.  
  
"Snips?" a girl's voice whispered.  
  
"Spirals?" He sat up and looked over the footboard of his bed. "What are you doing in here? Isn't Miss Price - ?"  
  
A strand of knee length ash blonde hair slipped over her shoulder as she placed her finger to her lips and grinned. "She's asleep. Come on - put your scarf and cloak on."  
  
"How are you not - ?"  
  
"I'm on a broom. As long as I don't touch the floor, the Protection Spells seem to ignore me."  
  
He sighed. "Over a thousand years of this and they still have loopholes."  
  
Sev jumped out of bed and shoved his feet into his worn shoes, wrapped his threadbare cloak around his thin body, and tied the green and silver scarf around his neck.  
  
He tip-toed as quietly as he could through the common room; Miss Price was slumped in her chair with her sharp chin against her breast, sleeping soundly. Sev was tempted to pull his left shoe off - it seemed it squeaked too loudly for something so small.  
  
At last, he closed the door and stood in the stone corridor of the dungeons with Britomartis 'Spirals' Vox, Second-Year. She immediately shoved a broom in his hand. "Come on, Snips, we're going to have a good time without having to go to stupid dances where they won't allow Medusa in."  
  
Sev smiled, reaching out to stroke the smooth, cool skin of the python wrapped around the shoulders of Martis' spiral-print cloak. "Uncivilized," he commented. "Not allowing a polite and high-class Slytherin in. Well, Miss Medusa, we don't need any of them."  
  
Martis giggled. "That's right!" She grabbed his scarf and pulled him up the stairs with her, both of them gripping their brooms tightly.  
  
"Where are we going?" he asked.  
  
"Surprise!" she whispered. "If we can get around Filch and Mrs. Norris, we'll be scot-free."  
  
Sev smiled, allowing her to drag him behind her. Whatever she had in mind had to be better than doing homework. He began to have an inkling as to why they were dressed warmly and taking their brooms outside.  
  
Fifteen and thirteen. There was still a world of difference between them, even though she was the best friend he had ever had. The only friend, really. she stood by him for everything - pranks, manipulative study partners, snow goons and robe monsters, and the plots of Slytherin House.  
  
He followed her long blonde hair as the tips swished back and forth, her uniform-issued mary-janes peeking out from under her gold and orange cloak. He found himself grinning.  
  
'If you keep following Miss Vox around like that,' Lucius had told him. 'People will know she has you on a leash.'  
  
[Sure, Malfoy,] Sev thought. [You're just sore because she can insult you in five other languages, most of them no longer used in the modern world.]  
  
They stepped out of the dorms, their breaths visible in the moonlight. She grinned, turning to him, her whole being positively vibrating with energy.  
  
"Quidditch pitch," she stated.  
  
He looked at the broom in his hand, then grinned back at her. "If we get caught, this was your idea."  
  
"I know! C'mon!"  
  
Giggling, she dashed off, her cloak billowing behind her while Medusa hung onto the girl's small shoulders.  
  
Sev ran after her, his squeaking left shoe silenced by the nearly-frost- covered turf. He ran in the chill moonlight - the beautiful full moon just over the horizon, brilliant white and full enough to explode, surrounded by an icy halo of light.  
  
He caught up with her, his hand reaching out to clutch hers (which she had reached back with on purpose). Both ran hand-in-hand across the open grass, the stands and hoops of the Quidditch pitch silhouetted by the moonlight behind them.  
  
They reached the outside walls of the pitch, gasping for breath, their cheeks and noses red from the cold, but still grinning. Sev brushed his hair out of his face. "Tired out yet, Spirals?"  
  
"I'm just starting, Snips." Martis unlatched the entry beneath the Slytherin stands, pulling Sev in by his scarf, then opened up the Slytherin team's prep room into the pitch.  
  
Moonlight filled the space, hiding blemishes, making everything clean and smooth in the silvery light. Shadows were pitch black, leaving sharp edges wherever they ended.  
  
Martis sat astride her broom and Sev followed her example.  
  
"We're going to be in so much trouble ... " he chuckled.  
  
"Only if Madame Hooch finds out." She looked at him and stuck her tongue out. "And it's not like we're using it for naughty purposes like some of the Sixth and Seventh-Years do."  
  
He blushed, thankful for the darkness under the stand. "Right."  
  
He took off onto the pitch, his broom sailing smoothly upward.  
  
She followed, zipping up and spiraling around him. Medusa continued to hang on to the girl's shoulders as if she were not being put through loop- de-loops and barrel-rolls.  
  
Sev carefully guided his broom around the pitch, getting used to the higher speeds. He had finally accepted he was just not meant to play Quidditch, and this actually bothered him very little.  
  
Meanwhile, Martis was the miracle worker of Slytherin's team, the Beater to end all Beaters; considering she actually destroyed one of the hoops during the last Slytherin game, this proved her dangerous enoughh.  
  
Sev had once asked her why she wanted to be on the team. She had replied, '"Cirrhosis" Black is on Gryffindor's team - and somebody needs to keep his punk-butt in line while on the pitch.'  
  
Good enough reason as any. Sirius never could make the Slytherins as a whole stop calling him 'Cirrhosis' after Martis had called him that in the middle of dinner well over a year ago. Always got his goat.  
  
She swept over him, the edges of her cloak skimming the top of his head. "Come on, Snips, you need to keep up!"  
  
Pulling back, he shot upward after her, chasing her across the field in a random zigzag line, his body swaying back and forth.  
  
Gods, it felt good having the freezing winds blowing across his face and forcing his hair back from his eyes. He could feel the greasiness from his stupidly over-active adolescent oil glands and cauldron steam from Potions class slough off his face and vanish into the night.  
  
Sev reached out, the edge of Martis' cloak close to his fingertips.  
  
She dove down and spun one-eighty, laughing.  
  
He automatically dove and spun as well - he locked his ankles together to keep from losing his balance - then shot off after her.  
  
She pressed forward, pulling the broom up, and began to ascend toward the dark blue velvet sky scattered with diamond-like stars, climbing higher and higher. The gold of her cloak shimmered in the moonlight.  
  
Sev chased her upward, his own broom reaching up into the sky above. He caught up with her, their brooms causing their bodies to orbit each other like twin suns.  
  
Holding the broom with one hand, Martis reached into the depths of her cloak and pulled something out. "I know you hate this holiday, but I want you to know that I care." She handed the object to him. "Happy Valentine's Day."  
  
Severus Snape held up the item to the moonlight - a rose. A burgundy rose, just beginning to blossom. "Martis ... I ... "  
  
She shook her head, smiling and still orbiting. "Hey, it was last minute, don't worry about it, Snips. Professor Spout will have my head for it if she found out."  
  
He blushed, feeling the dryness in his mouth - from the flying or the situation, he had no idea. Was there anything about a Second-Year girl offering a flower to a Fourth-Year boy, and them being only friends?  
  
"I won't tell," he finally said. "Thanks."  
  
She giggled. "See, it can be a nice holiday - when spent right."  
  
She dive-bombed back down to the pitch and he followed in hot pursuit, the rose clutched in his teeth. Her broom remained a steady three feet in front of his, her cloak whipping back toward him and the ends of her hair snapping as she laughed. Her laughter was like chimes in spring breezes, becoming infectious and making him laugh as well, even with the rose in his teeth.  
  
"Can't catch me, Snips!" she cried, buzzing over the pitch walls.  
  
No way to answer back, he continued to chase her, maneuvering upward slightly to not be hit by her cloak. Below them, the open grasslands before the castle sloped down to the shores of the lake. He stretched his arm out, his fingertips within inches of her back ... closer ... closer ...  
  
His middle and index fingers brushed against her back. She turned around and smiled radiantly, then slowed and spiraled downward to the lake.  
  
Martis landed first, her feet touching daintily on the grass.  
  
She looked up in time to see Sev crashing into her, tumbling both end over end down the slope. Somewhere along the way, Medusa released herself from the tumbling teenagers, slithering off to find a hopefully-warm rock until the humans could straighten themselves out.  
  
"Oh, Gods!" Sev moaned, feeling their limbs tangled up. "I'm so sorry! I'm so, so sorry!"  
  
Martis was laughing. "Stop apologizing, I'm all right!" She broke into harder laughter. "I can't tell if this is your leg or mine!"  
  
He began laughing as well, not sure where their bodies were under the cloaks. "Bite it - if I scream, it means it's mine."  
  
"If neither of us scream, we've got a problem."  
  
"If both of us scream, then we have a real problem."  
  
Both giggled as they untangled themselves, pulling cloaks and brooms out of their way.  
  
In the moonlight, Sev could see her sunglasses had fallen off. She had such beautiful moss green eyes ...  
  
Quickly, she had located her sunglasses and slipped them back on before he could study her face any further.  
  
"Oh, no," he moaned, picking up the remains of the burgundy rose. "I think we killed it."  
  
Martis shrugged. "It's okay, Snips. I gave it to you when it was pretty." She looked around as Medusa slithered back up her arm. "Near the lake. Neat."  
  
She got up and went to sit under one of the large trees near the shore, the moonlight spilling between the leaves and illuminating her long hair. He crawled over and joined her, the crushed rose still in his hand.  
  
"Thanks, Martis," he whispered.  
  
"For what?" she asked.  
  
"For making this a nice evening." He settled next to her and wrapped his thin cloak closer around himself, shivering.  
  
"We probably should get back in," she commented, rolling over and draping part of her cloak over him. "You're like an icicle."  
  
Martis wrapped an arm around him under the cloak and scooted closer, pressing her small body against his. He managed to snake his arms around her, holding her close and inhaling her scents of olive oil and spicy perfume and Teenage Girl. She was so warm ...  
  
They quietly held each other under the tree. At some point Medusa had joined them, wrapping herself around her mistress and settling back down again. Boy, girl, and snake.  
  
Sev buried his face in her hair, which was surprisingly warm against his skin. Gods, did he really think he could do something this comfortable and close and warm with Sonia? It seemed ridiculous that he could consider anyone else -  
  
Did this mean that he thought Martis - his best friend - as something other than his soul sister?? That he considered - ?  
  
!!!  
  
But Martis was different from that, he told himself. She knew no boundaries when it came to ... 'affection' with simple hugging and holding. And frankly, both of them were starved for such simple affection. Anything else was beyond her, not in her sphere, or at least she never acknowledged it was part of her sphere. Even when she joked and teased him, it was nothing serious. That's all.  
  
Still, it was best not to court trouble.  
  
"We have to go back to the dorms," Sev reminded her. "The dance will be over soon."  
  
"And baths," she added. "You have dirt on your face." She poked his chest. "Bother."  
  
He laughed, pulling away and scooping her and Medusa up. Martis objected noisily as he swung her around, then placed her back on her feet. She laughed and hugged him around his neck, standing on tip-toe to do so. Her face became as serious as only a teenage girl's can. "Severus, I want you to promise me that you won't become bitter, that you'll find something to enjoy in life. You're a wonderful, sensitive person when you open up and I don't want you to lose any of that when you grow up. And I'm going to make sure you do find happiness."  
  
He smiled sadly down at her. He had told her about his life, but she was still only thirteen-years-old, not really able to comprehend the hells he had been through. There was ... little hope that he would survive the rest of his teenage years without losing what she loved best about him.  
  
Loved? Perhaps that was too strong a word, but it was as close a match by definition as he understood. Besides, she was always going to be there to catch him when he tripped. Always.  
  
"I'll try, Martis," he answered.  
  
Satisfied with the answer, she smiled another thousand-watt smile and hugged him again. "Come on, before you freeze."  
  
They were never caught by Miss Price. No one knew about their excursion with the brooms over the Quidditch pitch. Not a soul was aware what had passed between two soul-siblings that night. Medusa kept silent as always.  
  
He had preserved the few rose petals left in the small silver box inside his desk in his dorm room, the only remembrance of that night in which he knew he was loved unconditionally by the one person that truly mattered in his life.  
  
-End-


End file.
